Romance At Work
by Gurly Glitz
Summary: Ms Gabriella Montez would do anything to ensnare the Mr Troy Bolton. Her goal is to ruin his reputation and cause scandal that would be the talk of all London. She gains his trust and lives in his house. Every night, she tempts him with her eyes and body that the hours before dawn can be spent in unbridled pleasure instead of restless sleep. Will the rationale man fall for her?
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Hi everyone! This is my first fan fiction and I'm really excited! So this would be a Troyella story that takes place in London, therefore the clothings, customs, royalty and stuff are different from our normal life, hope you guys understand! ^.^ I hope that you guys would enjoy reading my story and reviews are more than welcome! First of all, Disney owns the characters, and besides the plot plus some other characters that I have created, nothing is mine. The plot is inspired by something that I have read recently. Pardon me if there are any grammar errors, and the characters might be a little different from how they are in the movies. After all, this is fanfic right? :D right so let's get down to this story.**

It had been too long since he had bedded a woman.

Mr Troy Bolton could think of no other explanation for his reaction to Gabriella Montez… a response so powerful that he was forced to sit behind his desk to conceal a sudden, uncontrollable erection. Perplexed, he stared intently at the woman, wondering why her mere presence was enough to ignite such raging heat inside him. No one ever caught him off guard this way.

She was undeniably lovely, with her luscious milk chocolate locks and brown eyes, but she possessed a quality that surpasses physical beauty: a hint of passion contained beneath the frail gravity of her façade. Like any man, Troy was aroused more by what was concealed than by what was revealed. And clearly, Gabriella Montez was a woman of many secrets.

Silently, he strove to conceal his sexual awareness of her, focusing on the scarred mahogany surface of his desk until the flare of heat subsided. When he was finally able to meet her unfathomable gaze, he remained quiet, having learned long ago that silence was a powerful instrument. People were uncomfortable with silence – they usually sought to fill it, revealing much in the process.

However, Gabriella did not erupt in nervous chatter as so many women did. She stared at him warily and did not speak. Obviously, she was prepared to outwait him.

"Miss Montez," he finally said, "my clerk informs me that you would not disclose the reason for your visit."

"If I had told him why, I would not have been allowed past the threshold. You see, I have come about the position you advertised."

Troy was seldom surprised by anything, having seen and experienced far too much in the course of his work. However, the notion that she would want to work _here_, for him, was no less than astonishing. Apparently, she had no idea of what the job entailed. "I require an assistant, Miss Montez, someone who will act as a part-time clerk and records-keeper. Bow Street is not the place for a woman."

"The advertisement did not specify that your assistant had to be male," she pointed out. "I can read, write, manage household expenditures, and keep account books. Why shouldn't I be considered for the job?"

A hint of challenge had coloured her deferential tone. Fascinated and vaguely unsettled, Troy wondered if they had ever met before. No – he would have remembered her. And yet there was something oddly familiar about her.

"What is your age?" he asked abruptly. "21? 22?"

"I am 26, sir"

"Really?" He did not believe her. She appeared far too young.

"Yes really." Seeming amused, she moved to lean over his desk, placing her hands before him. "You see? One can always tell a woman's age by her hands."

Troy studied the hands that had been proffered without vanity. They were not the hands of a girl, but of a capable woman – one who had known hard work. Although her nails were scrupulously clean, they were filed almost to the quick. Her fingers were marked with thin white scars that had come from accidental cuts and scrapes, and with a crescent-shaped burn that must have come from bake-pan or pot.

Gabriella resumed her seat, the light sliding gently over her rich brown hair. "You don't look the way I expected, either," she informed him.

Troy arched a brow in sardonic inquiry. "Oh?"

"I thought you would be a portly old gentleman with a wig and a pipe."

That drew a brief laugh from him, low and scratchy, and he realized that it had been a long time since he had made such a sound. For some reason, he could not help asking, "Are you disappointed to find otherwise?"

"No," she said, sounding a bit breathless. "No, I am not disappointed."

The temperature in the office rose to a blistering degree. Troy could not help wondering if she found him attractive. He would soon be 30. Years of relentless work and little sleep had left their mark, and the reckless pace of his life had left him rawboned. He did not have the settled, pampered look that many men his age possessed.

Of course, they did not prowl the streets at night as he did, investigating murders and robberies, visiting prisons, and putting down riots.

He saw the assessing way Gabriella glanced around his office, which had been furnished Spartan style. One wall was covered with maps, the other fitted with book-shelves. Only one picture adorned the room, a landscape during times of calamity or tension, finding that the cool, quiet darkness of the painting never failed to soothe him.

Brusquely, he resumed the interview. "Have you brought references, Miss Montez?"

She shook her head. "I am afraid that my former employer will not recommend me."

"Why not?'

Finally, her composure was disrupted, a wash of color spreading over her face. "For many years I have worked for a distant cousin. She allowed to me reside in her household after my parents died. In return for her kindness, I served as a maid-of-all-work. I believe that Sharpay was pleased with my efforts. Until…" Words seem to clot in her throat, and sudden perspiration lent her skin a pearly shimmer.

Troy had heard every possible tale of disaster, evil, and human misery during his years as Chief Magistrate at Bow Street. Although he was not callous by any means, he had learnt to put a certain emotional distance between himself and those who came to plea before him. But the sight of Gabriella's anxiety filled him with the insane urge to comfort her, to pick her up and soothe her. _Holy hell_, he thought in grim surprise, struggling to master the unwanted surge of protectiveness.

"Go on, Miss Montez," he said curtly.

She nodded and took a deep breath. "I did something very wrong. I-I took a lover. I never had one before… but he was the brother of Sharpay and was so, so charming. I had never been courted anyone like him. I fell in love with him and we – "She stopped and averted her gaze, apparently unable to look at Troy any longer. "He promised to marry me, and I was foolish enough to believe him. When he got tired of me, he abandoned me without a second thought. Of course, I realize now that it was ridiculous to think that a man of his status might have taken me as a wife."

"He was an aristocrat?" Troy asked.

She studied the shapes of her knees through the drape of her skirts. "Not precisely. He was – is – the only son, along with his sister Sharpay, of a noble family."

"His name?"

"I would prefer not to reveal it, sir. It is all in the past now. Suffice it to say that Sharpay learned of this affair I had with her brother, who also let it be known to me that he was married. Needless to say, there was a scandal, and Sharpay told me to leave." Gabriella smoothed her gown in a nervous gesture, her palms running over the fabric that covered her lap. "I know that this is evidence of an immoral character. But I promise you that I am not easily given to… to dalliances. If you could manage to overlook my past – "

"Miss Montez." Troy waited until she could bring herself to look at him once more. "I would be a hypocrite if I condemned you for the affair. We have all made mistakes."

"Not you, surely"

That elicited a wry smile from him. "Especially me"

Her chocolate brown eyes were alert. "What kind of mistakes?"

The question amused him. He liked her fearlessness, as well as the layer of vulnerability beneath. "None that you need to know about, Miss Montez"

She smiled slowly. "Then I remain skeptical as to you having made any."

It was the kind of smile a woman might wear in the sultry aftermath of lovemaking. Very few women possessed such effortless sensuality, a natural warmth that made a man feel like a prize stallion on a stud farm. Dumbfounded, Troy concentrated on the surface of his desk. Unfortunately, that did nothing to dispel the lurid images that had flooded his brain. He wanted to reach across the desk and pull her on top of the slick mahogany and strip her naked. He wanted to kiss her breasts, stomach, thighs… to part the curls between her legs and bury his face in the tender salt-scented folds, and lick and suckle until she scram in ecstasy. When he had made her ready for him, he would unfasten his trousers and drive himself deep inside her, to thrust until his raging desire was satisfied. And then…

Infuriated by his lack of self-control, Troy drummed his fingers on the desk. He struggled to remember the thread of the conversation. "Before we discuss my past," he said, "we had better attend to yours. Tell me, did a child result from this liaison?"

"No, sir"

"That is fortunate," he said.

"Yes, sir"

"Is London your birthplace?"

"No, sir. I was born, along with my younger brother, in a little town. We… "Gabriella paused, a shadow passing over her expression, and Troy sensed that the past held many painful memories for her. "We were orphaned when our parents drowned in a boating accident. I was not yet 13. My father was a viscount, but we had little land, and no funds to support it. There were no relatives able or willing to care for two virtually impoverished children. A few people in the village took turns looking after my brother and me, but I'm afraid…" She hesitated and spoke more cautiously. "My brother, John, and I were quite wild. We ran about the village committing acts of mischief until we were caught in a bit of thievery at the local bakeshop. It was then that I went to live with my cousin, Sharpay."

"What became of your brother?"

She responded with a distant stare, her manner turning wooden. "He is dead now. The title is extinct, and the family lands are being held in abeyance, as there is no eligible male to inherit."

Being no stranger to grieve, Troy was sensitive to it in others. He understood at once that whatever had happened to her brother, it had left a deep scar on her soul. "I'm sorry," he said softly.

She was rigid, seeming not to hear him.

Troy considered her closely. "Miss Montez, I could not in good conscience hire a woman as my assistant. Among other things, you would be required to list the occupants of the prisoners' van bearing criminals to and from Newgate, compile reports of the Bow Street runners, and take depositions from the assortment of foul characters who parade daily through this building. Such tasks would be offensive to a woman's sensibilities."

"I wouldn't mind," she said with equanimity. "As I have already explained, I am neither sheltered nor innocent. I am not young, nor do I have a reputation or social standing to preserve. Many woman work in hospitals, prisons, and charity wards, and they encounter all kinds if desperate and lawless people. I will survive just as they have."

"You cannot be my assistant," Troy said firmly. He raised a hand in a silencing gesture as she tried to interrupt. "However, my former housekeeper has just retired, and I would be willing to hire you as her replacement. That would be a far more suitable employment for you.

"I could take a hand in certain household matters," she conceded. "In addition to working as you assistant."

"You propose to do both?" In a gently sardonic tone, he asked, "Don't you think that might be too much work for one person to handle?"

"People say that you do the work of six men," she shot back. "If that is true, I could certainly manage to do the work of two."

"I am not offering you two positions. I am offering you only one – that of a housekeeper."

Strangely, his authoritative statement made her smile. There was no mistaking the challenge in her eyes, but it was a friendly provocation, as if she knew somehow that he was not about to let her walk away. "No thank you," she said, "I'll have what I want or nothing at all."

Troy's face hardened into the expression that cowed even the most seasoned Bow Street runners. "Miss Montez, it is clear you don't understand the dangers that you would be exposed to. An attractive woman has no business mingling with criminals whose behaviour ranges from mischief-making to depravities I could not even begin to describe."

She seemed unruffled at the prospect. "I would be surrounded by more than a hundred law enforcement officers, including constables, horse patrols, and half-dozen or so Bow Street runner. I daresay I would be safer working here than I would be shopping at Regent Street."

"Miss Montez – "

"Mr Bolton," she interrupted, standing and bracing her hands on his desk. Her high-necked dress revealed nothing as she leaned toward him. However, if she had been wearing a low décolletage, her breasts would have been presented to him like two succulent apples on a tray. Stimulated unbearably by the thought, Troy forced himself to focus on her face. Her lips curled into a faint smile. "You have nothing to lose by letting me try," she pointed out. "Give me a month to prove my worth."

Troy stared at her intently. There was something manufactured about her display of charm. She was trying to manipulate him into giving her something she wanted – and she was succeeding. But why in God's name did she want to work for him? He realized suddenly that he could not let her go without discovering her motives.

"If I fail to please you," she added. "you can always hire someone else."

Troy was known for being a supremely rational man. It would be impractical for him to hire this woman. Stupid, even. He knew exactly what the others at Bow Street would make of it. They would assume that he had hired her because of her sexual appeal. The uncomfortable truth was, they would be right. It had been a long time since he had been so strongly attracted to a woman. He wanted to keep her here, to enjoy her beauty and intelligence, and to discover if she returned his interest. His mind weighed the scruples of such a decision, but his thoughts were eclipsed by male urges that refused to be quelled.

And for the first time in his magisterial career, Troy ignored reason in favour of desire.

**Review, favourite and follow please! I would really like to know what you guys think^^ Do follow two of my instagram accounts life_sucks_move_on and howcast_ and follow me maybe? :3 Thanks for reading once again!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A\N: Thank you for the favs, follow and review. Really meant a lot to me :D**** special thanks to cbreew for reviewing! Rushed out this chapter for you and hope you like it! Not much actually, just a filler chapter to tell you more about Gabriella. The beginning chapters will be a little dry, but the later chapters, that is when the romance comes in so stay tuned! :D I have edited this chapter for the errors that you guys have pointed out so… yeap! To cbreew: Great to hear that you are enjoying it! And so sorry for the blunder! Have edited it ^^ To Ale X. Sha: This is set in London during the Bow Street era. Bow Street is the police headquarters in London and now Troy is the chief magistrate while Gabriella is the assistant. Thanks for reading!**

_And for the first time in his magisterial career, he ignored reason in favour of desire._

Scowling, he picked up a haphazard pile of papers and handed them to her. Cautiously she accepted the ungainly stack and scanned the top few notes. "These notes must be compiled and copied every week," Troy said tersely. "It's tedious, and I have far more pressing matters to attend to. From now on, that will be one of your responsibilities." He pointed to a small table in the corner, every available inch of its scarred surface covered with books, files and correspondence. "You may work there. You'll have to share my office, as there is no room for you elsewhere. As things stand, I'm away on investigations much of the time.

"You will hire me then," she said, her voice rich with satisfaction. "Thank you, Mr Bolton."

He slanted an ironic glance. "If I have that you are not suited for the position, you will accept my decision without protest.

"Yes, sir."

"One more thing. You will not be required to go to the prisoners' van each morning. Jason will do it."

"But you said that it was part of your assistant's responsibilities, and I – "

"Are you arguing with me, Miss Montez?"

"She closed her mouth abruptly. "No, Mr Bolton."

"He gave her a brief nod. "The notes must be finished by two o'clock. After you are done, find a dark haired lad named Jason. Tell him where your possessions are – he will fetch them for you."

"There is no need to make him gather my things," Gabriella protested. "I will go to the lodging house by myself at a more convenient time."

"You are not to walk anywhere in London alone. From now on, you are under my protection. If you wish to go somewhere, you will be accompanied by Jason or one of the runners."

She didn't like that – he saw the resentful flicker in her eyes. But she did not argue. Troy continued in a businesslike manner. "You'll have the rest of the day to make yourself familiar with the public office and private residence. Later I will introduce you to my colleagues as they appear for their court sessions."

"Will I also be introduced to the Bow Street runners?"

"I doubt you will be able to avoid them for long," Troy said dryly. The thought of the runners' reaction to his female assistance caused his mouth to tighten. He wondered if that was Gabriella's motive for working here. Woman all over England had made the runners objects of romantic fantasy. Their imaginations were fueled by the ha'penny novels that portrayed the runners as heroic men of action. It was possible that Gabriella wished to attract one of them. If so, she would not have to work hard. The runners were a randy lot, and all but one were unmarried.

"By the way, I do not condone any romantic involvements at Bow Street," Troy said. "The runners, the constables, and the clerks are all unavailable to you. Naturally, I will offer no objections if you wish to carry on with someone _outside_ the public office."

"What about you?" she startled him by asking softly. "Are you unavailable as well?"

Perplexed, hungering, Troy wondered what kind of game she was trying to play. He kept his expression blank as he replied, "Naturally."

She smiled slightly as she went to the small, over-laden table.

In less than an hour, Gabriella had efficiently arranged and copied the notes in a neat hand that would delight the printer to no end. She was so quiet and economical in her movements that Troy would have forgotten she was there, except that her scent filtered through the air. It was a tantalizing distraction that he could not dismiss. Breathing deeply, he tried to identify the fragrance. He detected tea and vanilla, blended with the elixir of warm female skin. Stealing glances at her delicate profile, he was fascinated by the way the light moved over her hair. She had small ears, a sharply defined chin, a soft snippet of a nose, and eyelashes that cast spiky shadows on her cheeks.

Absorbed in her task, Gabriella bent over a page and wrote carefully. Troy could not help imagine how those adept hands might feel on his body, if they would be warm or cool. Would she touch a man with hesitancy or boldness? Her exterior was delicate, subdued, but there were hints of something provocative beneath… an intimation that she could be unmoored by sexuality, if only a man could reach deep enough inside her.

The conjecture caused Troy's blood to stir faster. He damned himself for being so drawn to her. The force of his unspent passion seemed to fill the room. How strange that the past months, years, of celibacy had been so tolerable until now. Suddenly, it had become unbearable, his accumulated hunger for a woman's soft flesh, his need for a tender sheath clamped around his cock, a sweet, responsive mouth returning his kisses…

Just as his desire reached an excruciating pitch, Gabriella approached his desk with the copies. "Is this how you like it to be done?" she asked.

He scanned them quickly, hardly seeing the neat lines of script. With a cursory nod, he handed them back to her.

"I'll give them to Jason, then," she said, her gown rustling softly as she left. The door closed with a quiet click, affording him some much-needed privacy. Releasing an explosive breath, Troy went to the chair where Gabriella sat his gingers coasting over its back and arms. Driven by primal urges, he hunted for any trace of warmth her hands might have left on the wood. He breathed deeply, seeking to absorb a lingering hint of her fragrance.

Yes, he thought with purely masculine agitation, he had been celibate for too long.

Although he was often tormented by his physical needs, Troy had too much respect for women to hire a prostitute. He had become well acquainted with the profession from the perspective of the magisterial bench, and he would not take advantage of such a woman. Moreover, the transaction would be a mockery of what he had shared with his wife.

He had considered the idea of marrying again, but he had not found a woman who seemed remotely suitable. The wife of a police magistrate would have to be strong and independent. And she would have to fit easily into the social circles his family frequented, as well as the dark world of Bow Street, Most of all, she would have to be satisfied with his friendship, not his love. He would not allow himself to fall in love again, not as he had with Eleanor. The pain of losing her had been too great, and his heart had been ripped into half when she died.

He only wished that the need for sex could be dismissed as easily as the need for love.

Gabriella quickly made herself familiar with the layout of her office as she searched for Jason. She located him and passed the notes to him for him to print.

Relieved to find herself alone, Gabriella wandered into the dry larder. It was fitted with slate selves that held, among many other things, a round of cheese, a pot of butter, a jug of milk and cuts of meat. The little room was shadowy and dark, silent except for the steady drip of water in the adjoining wet larder. Suddenly overcome with the tension that had accumulated inside her all afternoon, Gabriella felt herself begin to tremble and shiver until her teeth chattered violently. Hot tears gushed from her eyes, and she pressed the length of her sleeve hard against the aching sockets.

_Dear God, how she hated him._

It had taken all her strength and will to sit in that cluttered office with Troy Bolton, appearing serene while her blood boiled with loathing. She had hidden her antipathy well; she thought she had even made him want her. His eyes had flickered with a reluctant attraction that he couldn't quite hide. That was good; it was what she had hoped for. Because she wanted to do something worse than kill Troy Bolton. She intended to ruin him in every way, to make him suffer until death would be preferable. And somehow fate seemed to be accommodating her plan.

From the moment Gabriella had seen the advertisement in the _Times_ that an assistant was wanted at the Bow Street public office, a plan had fully sprung into her mind. She would obtain the job at Bow Street and thereby gain access to records and files. Eventually she would find what she needed to destroy Troy Bolton's reputation and force him to resign.

There were rumours of corruption surrounding the runners and their activities – reports of illegal raids, brutality, and intimidation, not to mention acting outside their described jurisdictions. Everyone knew that Troy and his "people", as he termed them, were a law unto themselves. Once an already suspicions public was given solid proof of their misconduct, the paragon known as Mr Bolton would be ruined beyond redemption. Gabriella would uncover whatever information was necessary to bring about his downfall.

But that wasn't enough. She wanted the betrayal to be deeper, more painful than that. She was going to seduce the so-called Monk of Bow Street and make him fall in love with her. And then she would bring his world down around his ears.

The scalding tears abated, and Sophia turned to rest her forehead against a cool edge of slate, sighing shakily. One thought sustained her: Troy Bolton was going to pay for taking away the last person on earth who had loved her. Her brother, John, whose remains were buried in a mass grave, mingling with the rotting skeletons of thieves and murderers.

Regaining her self-control, Gabriella contemplated what she had learnt of Mr Bolton so far. He was not at all what she expected. She had thought he would be a pompous, heavyset man, jowly and vain and corrupt. She had not wanted him to be attractive.

But Troy Bolton _was_ handsome, much as she hated to admit it. He was a man in his prime, tall and lean. His features were strong and austere, with straight brown brows shadowing the most extraordinary pair of eyes she had ever seen. He had stunning cerulean eyes, so intense that it seemed as if the white-hot energy of the lightning and ocean had been trapped inside those striking azure gaze of his. He possessed a quality that had unnerved her, a tremendous volatility burning beneath his remote surface. And he wore his authority comfortably; a man who could make decisions and live with them no matter what the outcome.

Hearing the sounds of someone entering the kitchen from the door that led to the street above, Gabriella ventured from the larder. She saw a woman not much older than she, plump and dark-skinned. She was tidy and well-kept, her apron washed and pressed. The cook maid, Gabriella surmised.

"Hello," the woman said shyly, bobbing in a curtsy. "May I help you, miss?"

"I am Gabriella Montez, Mr Bolton's new assistant."

"Assistant," the woman repeated in confusion. "But you are not a man."

"No, indeed," Gabriella said evenly, surveying the spacious kitchen.

"I am the cook maid, Taylor," the woman offered, staring at her with wide eyes. "There is another maid, Martha, and an errand boy…"

"Jason? Yes, I've met him."

Daylight shone through the windows, revealing the luxurious kitchen filled with sparkling utensils. Gabriella could not help exclaiming in admiration. "Oh, it must be wonderful to cook in here!"

Taylor clapped her hands in joy. "Perhaps you can help me miss. I can manage plain cooking but that is all."

"It would be my pleasure, Taylor."

"We all eat in the kitchen – masters, servants, and constables alike," Taylor said.

Gabriella gazed at a shelf. She strove to sound detached as she asked, "Is Mr Bolton a good master?"

"Oh, yes, miss!" the cook-maid said at once. "However, he can be a bit odd at times. For example, he will work for days without a proper meal. Sometimes, he will even sleep at his desk rather than go to his own bed for a decent night's rest."

"Why does he work so hard?"

"No one knows the answer to that. Perhaps not even Mr Bolton himself. They say he was different after his wife passed on…"

"He became distant?" Gabriella suggested.

"Yes, distant and cold-natured. He tolerates no weakness in himself, and takes no interest in anything other than his duties."

"Perhaps he will marry again someday."

Taylor smiled and shrugged. "There are so many fine ladies who would have him! They come to his office to ask him to help with their charities, or to complain about pickpockets and such. But it's plain they hope to catch his eye. And the less interest he shows, the more they pursue him."

"Mr Bolton is sometimes called the Monk of Bow Street," Gabriella murmured. "Does that mean he never…" She paused as a blush climbed her cheeks.

"Only he knows for certain," Taylor said thoughtfully. "It would be a pity, wouldn't it? A waste of a good, healthy man." Her lips pulled into a smile, and she winked at Gabriella. "But I think someday the right woman will know how to tempt him, don't you?"

Yes, Gabriella thought with a swirl of satisfaction. She would be the one to end Troy Bolton's monkish ways. She would win his trust, perhaps even his love… and she would use it to destroy him.

******Review, favourite and follow please! I would really like to know what you guys think^^ Do follow two of my instagram accounts life_sucks_move_on and howcast_ and follow me maybe? :3 Thanks for reading once again!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I know its been a while since I posted a chapter but I'm kinda overwhelmed with the work here, hope you guys understand Anyways, here's a third chapter for you guys! Not really much again, just slightly more about Troy's line of work and showing how Gabriella is trying to make Troy fall for her ^^ kinda a short chapter but I'm really trying to rush out more chapters for you guys. I was up till 3 in the morning to get this done, its short that's why I don't really like it :/ oh and by the way, I've changed the other maid of Troy's to Martha instead of Kelsi! You'll see why in the later chapters! ^^ Without further ado, let's start!**

_Yes, Gabriella thought with a swirl of satisfaction. She would be the one to end Troy Bolton's monkish ways. She would win his trust, perhaps even his love… and she would use it to destroy him. _

As news travelled fast on Bow Street, Troy was unsurprised when a knock came on the door not a quarter hour after Gabriella had left. One of the assistant magistrates, Mr Chad Danforth, entered the office. "Good morning, Bolton," Chad said, his brown eyes alight with good humour. At a height of nearly 6 feet, Chad Danforth was the only man Troy had to physically look up to. Chad was a good man, steady and intelligent, and one of the few people in the world Troy trusted.

Pulling the visitor's chair up to the desk, Chad lowered his gigantic frame onto the leather seat. He gave Troy a speculative stare. "I caught a glimpse of Miss Montez," he remarked. "Jason told me that she is your new assistant. Naturally I replied that he must have been mistaken."

"Why?"

"Because hiring a woman for such a position would be impractical. Furthermore, enlisting a woman as comely as Miss Montez to work at Bow Street would be damned foolish. And since I have never known you to be impractical or foolish, I told Jason that he was wrong."

"He's right," Troy muttered.

Leaning to the side, Chad rested his chin in the bracket of his thumb and forefinger and contemplated the Chief Magistrate speculatively. "She's going to be a clerk and file-keeper? And take depositions from footpads and highwaymen and buttock-and-file whores and – "

"Yes," Troy snapped.

Chad's thick brows climbed halfway up his forehead. "To point out the obvious, every man who passes through this place – runners not excepted – is going to be on her like flies on a honey pot. She won't be able to get a damned thing done. Miss Montez is trouble, and you know it." He paused and remarked idly, "What interests me is why you chose to hire her anyway,"

"It's none of your business. Miss Montez is _my_ employee. I'll hire anyone I damn well want to, and the men had better leave her alone of answer to me."

Chad stared at him in an assessing way that Troy did not like. "My pardon," he said softly. "You seem rather touchy on the subject."

"I'm not touchy, dammit!"

Chad responded with a supremely annoying grin. "I believe this is the first time I've ever heard you swear, Bolton."

Too late, Troy understood the source of Chad's amusement. Somehow his normally emotionless façade had cracked. He fought to mask his irritation, drumming his fingers on the desk in an impatient staccato.

Chad watched his struggle with a lingering grin. Apparently, he could not resist making one more comment. "Well, there is one point that no one can dispute – she makes a prettier clerk than the previous one."

Troy pinned him with a forbidding stare. "Chad, the next time I advertise for an employee, I will make certain to hire some long-toothed old crone in the hopes of pleasing you. Now, may we turn the discussion to some other matter… perhaps even relating to work?"

"By all means," Chad said agreeably. "Actually, I came to give you the latest report on Nick Gentry."

Troy's eyes narrowed at the news. Of all criminals he desired to be caught, tried and hanged, Nick was easily the first on the list. He was the opposite of everything Troy sought to uphold.

Taking advantage of the law that gave rewards to any citizen who apprehended a highwayman, burglar or deserter, Nick and his men had established an office in London and set themselves up as professional thief-takers. When Nick caught a highwayman, he received not only a commission upon conviction, but also the highwayman's horse, weapons and money. If he recovered stolen goods, he not only charged a fee, he also took a percentage of the property's value. When Nick and his men could not gather enough evidence against a particular felon, they planted or manufactured some. They also seduced young boys into crime, purely for the purpose of arresting them later and collecting the bounties.

Nick was regarded with both admiration and fear in the underworld, where he was the undisputed king. His office had become the rendezvous for every criminal note. Nick was guilty of all kinds of corruption, including fraud, bribery, thievery, and even murder. Most maddening of all, the man was regarded by much of London as some sort of public benefactor. He cut a dashing figure in his fine clothes and small boys dreamed of growing up to be like him while women of high or low birth were excited by his intriguing appearance.

"I'd like to see that bastard dance in the wind," Troy muttered. "Tell me what you have."

After Chad told Troy everything he knew, Troy went very still, in the manner of a predator catching scent of its most desired prey. "Bring him in for questioning," he said. "And do it quickly."

Chad nodded. "I assume you want to question him yourself?"

Troy nodded. Ordinarily, he would have left such matters in Chad's capable hands, but not when Nick Gentry was involved. Nick was his personal adversary, and Troy had devoted a great deal of effort to bringing the wily thief-taker down.

"Very well sir." Chad stood up. "I'll have Nick taken into custody as soon as he is located. I'll dispatch the runners immediately." He paused, a wry smile softened the hard angles of his face. "That is, if they are not too busy ogling at your assistant."

Troy suppressed a biting remark with great difficulty, his normally controlled temper igniting at the idea of Gabriella Montez being harassed by his own men. "Do something for me, Chad," he said through tight lips. "Make it known that if any of my runners or any member of the foot or horse patrol bothers Miss Montez, they will regret it."

"Yes sir." Chad turned to leave, but not before Troy saw the hint of a smile on his lips.

"What is so bloody amusing?"

Chad replied in a bland tone. "I was merely reflecting, sir, that you may come to regret not hiring a long-toothed old crone."

After having dinner, Gabriella unpacked her items in her new room in Troy's private residence. Her window faced Troy's office, allowing her to see whatever that he was doing. The lamplight highlighted the hard edge of his profile as he turned towards his bookshelves. It was late, and he should have retired for the evening.

Gabriella changed into her nightgown and returned to the window, watching as Troy rubbed his face and bent diligently over his desk. She thought of all the things Taylor and Martha had told her about the Chief Magistrate. With the typical servants' love of gossip, they had provided a great deal of information.

It seemed that Troy's supporters, of which there are many, revered him for his compassion, whereas an equal number of critics denounced him for his sternness. He was the most powerful magistrate in England, even acting as an unofficial advisor to the government. He trained his runners with progressive new methods, applying scientific principles to law enforcement in a way that earned both admiration and mistrust from the public. The methods that Troy used did not make sense to her, but apparently Troy's techniques had untangled mysteries as intricate as the Gordian knot.

The servants held Troy in high regard, as did everyone else who worked at Bow Street. Gabriella came to the unsettling realization that the magistrate was not entirely the evil person she had considered him to be. It did not change her resolve to avenge John's death, however. In fact, strict adherence to principle was probably what had led to the tragedy that had claimed her brother's life. No doubt Troy lived by the letter of the law, putting principle above compassion, and legislation above mercy.

The thought caused Gabriella's anger to flare violently. Who was Troy Bolton, that he should decide who lived and who died? Why was he fit to sit in judgment upon others? Was he so infallible, so wise and perfect? He probably thought he was, that arrogant bastard.

But she was perplexed by the memory of his easy forgiveness that morning, when she had confessed her short-lived affair. Most people would have condemned her as a harlot and said that her dismissal was well-deserved. She had expected Troy to censure her. Instead, he seemed understanding and kind, and had even admitted that he himself had made mistakes.

Troubled, she nudged the frayed muslin curtain aside to gain a better view of his front office.

As if he could somehow feel Gabriella's gaze, Troy turned and glanced directly at her. Although there was no light or candle burning in her room, the moonlight was sufficient to illuminate her. He could see that she was only dressed in the fragile nightdress.

Being a gentleman, Troy should have turned away immediately. But he stared at her intently, as if he were a hungry wolf and she were a rabbit that had ventured too far from the warren. Though Gabriella's body burned with embarrassment, she lingered to give him a good look. Silently she counted the seconds: one... two... three. Then she moved aside slowly, drew the curtain shut, a d raised her palm to her flaming face. She should be pleased that he had shown an interest in what she looked like in her night clothes. Instead, she was profoundly uneasy, almost frightened - as if her plan to seduce and destroy him might somehow end in her own downfall.

**Really short right? :/ sorry! I've really been overwhelmed by school work and yeah… ****Review, favourite and follow please! I would really like to know what you guys think^^ Do follow two of my instagram accounts life_sucks_move_on and howcast_ and follow me maybe? :3 Thanks for reading once again!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's note: I know it's been a while but I've been working on this chapter whenever I can and it's finally out! I just wanna state that in this story, all the pairings are all really really weird. For this story, the only romance would be Troyella J So there will not be any Chad and Taylor, Zeke and Sharpay, Ryan and Kelsi, Jason and Martha. ONLY Troyella! Please keep an open mind when reading my story because it might be different from your typical High School Musical fanfic, but stick with me and continue this story! It would be really good in the later chapters! :D So yep! Here's the next chapter, enjoy!**

She should be pleased that he had shown an interest in what she looked like in her night clothes. Instead, she was profoundly uneasy, almost frightened - as if her plan to seduce and destroy him might somehow end in her own downfall.

Troy began the day as usual, performing his morning ablutions with economic speed and dressing in his usual attire of a dark coat and gray trousers. He tied his black silk tie in a simple knot, and brushed his hair until it settled neatly into place. Giving a cursory glance in the mirror behind the sink, he saw that the smudges beneath his eyes were more pronounced than usual. He had not slept well the previous night. He had been occupied with thoughts of Gabriella, his body teeming with the awareness that she was sleeping only a few rooms away.

It had been impossible to stop thinking about the moment when he had seen her at the window, her long hair streaming in ripples, her nightgown ghostly in the moonlight. Troy had been utterly seduced by the image, his blood coursing as he imagined what the female body beneath the gown might look like.

Scowling, Troy vowed that there would be no more nightly reveries concerning Gabriella. No more fantasies, and certainly no more gazing at her window. From now on it would be work as usual.

Grimly determined, he went down to the kitchen, where he intended to fetch his first jug of coffee and carry it to his office. When that was done, he would take his daily walk through Covent Garden* and the surrounding streets, much in the manner of a physician taking the pulse of a favourite patient. No matter how detailed the reports of the Bow Street runners were, there was nothing quite like seeing and hearing things for himself.

Troy took pleasure in the orderly progression of activities at Bow Street each day. Everything as it should be, he thought with satisfaction.

As Troy entered the kitchen, he saw Jason sitting at the scrubbed wooden table. The boy wolfed down a plate of breakfast as if it were the first decent meal he'd had in months. Gabriella stood at the range with Taylor, apparently showing her how to prepare breakfast. "Turn them like this," Gabriella was saying, expertly flipping a row of little cakes on a saucepan. The kitchen atmosphere was especially fragrant today, spiced with frying bacon, coffee and sizzling batter.

Gabriella looked fresh and wholesome, the trim curves of her figure outlined by a white apron that covered her charcoal-gray dress. Her brown hair was tied in a ponytail with a blue ribbon. As she saw him standing in the doorway, a smile lit her milk chocolate eyes, and she was so dazzling pretty that Troy felt a painful jab low in his stomach.

"Good morning, Mr Bolton," she said. "Will you have some breakfast?"

"No, thank you," he replied automatically. "Only a jug of coffee. I never..." He paused as Taylor set a plate on the table. It was piled with steaming batter cakes sitting in a pool of blackberry sauce. He had a special fondness for blackberries.

"Just one or two?" Gabriella coaxed.

Abruptly, it became less important that he adhere to his usual habits. Perhaps he could make time for a little breakfast, Troy reasoned. A five-minute delay would make no difference in his schedule.

He found himself seated at the table facing a plate heaped with cakes, crisp bacon, and eggs. Gabriella filled a cup with steaming black coffee, and smiled at him once more before resuming her place at the stove with Taylor. Troy picked up his fork and stared at it as if he didn't quite know what to do with it.

"They're good, sir," Jason ventured, stuffing his mouth so greedily that it seemed likely he would choke.

Troy took a bite of the fruit-soaked cake and washed it down with a swallow of hot coffee. As he continued to eat, He felt a familiar sense of well-being. Good God, it had been ages since he'd had anything other than Taylor's wretched concoctions.

For the next few minutes Troy ate until the platter of cakes was demolished. Gabriella came now and then to refill his cup or offer more bacon. The cozy warmth of the kitchen and the sight of Gabriella as she moved about the room caused a tide of unwilling pleasure inside him. Setting down his fork, Troy stood and regarded her without smiling. "I must go now. Thank you for the breakfast, Miss Montez."

One last mug of coffee was pressed into his hands, and Gabriella's luscious brown eyes stared into his. "Will you spend the day in the office, sir?"

Troy shook his head. The heat of the stove had made her cheeks pink and glistening. He wanted to kiss, lick, taste her. "I will be out for most of the morning," he said, his voice raspy. "I am conducting an investigation - there was a murder in Russell Square last evening."

"Be careful."

It had been a long time since anyone had said that to him. Troy damned himself for feeling so easily unsettled... but there it was, that velvety tickle of pleasure he could not seem to elude. He nodded shortly, giving her a wary glance before leaving.

Gabriella spent the first half of the day attending to a waist-high pile of papers that had been shoved into a corner of Troy's office. As she filed the mass of information, she welcomed the opportunity to become familiar with the criminal records room, which was dusty and unkempt. It would take days, perhaps weeks, to organise the drawers of materials properly. While Gabriella worked, she reflected on what she had learnt of Troy Bolton so far, including the stray comments she had heard from servants and clerks and runners. It seemed that the Chief Magistrate was an inhumanely self-controlled man who never swore or shouted or drank to excess. A few soft-voiced directions from him would make the fearsome runners hasten to obey. Troy Bolton was admired by all who worked for him, but at the same time they delighted in jesting about his cold and methodical nature.

Gabriella did not believe that he was cold. She perceived something beneath his austere facade, a powerfully contained sexuality that would be all-consuming if it were ever set free. Given the intensity of his nature, Troy Bolton would not approach lovemaking in a casual way. It was too important, too rare for him; he would have to care deeply for his partner before he slept with her. If Gabriella were to succeed in seducing him, she would have to earn his affection. But how did one go about making such a man fall in love? She suspected that he would respond to a woman who supplied the softness that was clearly missing in his life. After all, he was not some godlike being with limitless strength. He was a man, one who pushed himself too hard. For a man who carried so many burdens on his shoulders, it would be a relief to have someone take care of his needs.

Returning to Troy's office, Gabriella used a rag to wipe the dust from the windowsill. She happened to see the object of her thoughts on the street below, as Troy paused at the iron fence that fronted the building. He appeared to be speaking to a woman who had been waiting at the gate. The woman wore a brown shawl that covered her hair and shoulders, and Gabriella remembered that Jason had turned her away earlier in the day. The woman had wanted to see Troy, Jason had told her to return tomorrow as the Chief Magistrate was occupied with pressing matters.

However, Troy opened the gate for the woman and walked with her to the entrance. Gabriella was touched by his consideration for someone who was surely of a much lower class. She was ill-dressed and haggard, yet the Chief Magistrate gave her his arm as courteously as if she were a duchess.

When Troy brought the woman into his office, Gabriella noticed the hitch of a frown between his brows. "Good afternoon, Miss Montez," he said evenly, guiding his visitor to a chair. The woman was thin, middle-aged, and haggard in appearance, her eyes red from crying. "This is Miss Jones, who I understand was turned away by Jason this morning."

"I believe Jason was concerned that your schedule was already quite full," Gabriella murmured.

"I can always make time when it is necessary." Troy half sat, half leaned against his desk, his arms folded across his chest. He spoke in a gently encouraging tone that Gabriella had not heard from him before. "You said that you fear for your sister's safety, Miss Jones. Pray tell me what had caused such concern."

The trembling spinster clutched the ends of her shawl and spoke in a choked voice. "My younger sister, Sophia is married to Mr Jeremy Fowler." She paused, evidently overcome by emotion.

"Mr Fowler's employment is...?" Troy prompted inquiringly.

"He is a medical professional. They live above the shop at St. James's market. There is trouble between Mr Fowler and Sophia, and - "she stopped and twisted the knitted shawl in tight, frantic fists. "She did something a month ago that put him in a rage. And I haven't seen her since."

"She is missing from her home?"

"No sir... Mr Fowler keeps her locked in a room and won't let her out. She's been in there for almost 4 weeks. No one can go inside to see her... I think she has taken ill, and I've begged Mr Fowler to let her go, but he won't, as he's still of a mind to punish her."

"Punish her for what?" Troy asked quietly.

Red flags of shame crossed the woman's narrow cheeks. "I think Sophia took up with another man. It was very bad of her, I know. But Sophia is good at heart, and I'm certain she is sorry for what she did and wants Mr Fowler's forgiveness." Miss Jones eyes watered, and she blotted them with her shawl. "No one will help me free my poor sister, as they all say it's a matter between husband and wife. Mr Fowler says he's only done this because he loves her so, and she hurt him so awfully. No one, not even the rest of my family, blames him for locking her away."

Troy's eyes were hard and icy. "I am always puzzled by this so-called love that causes men to brutalise their wives. In my opinion, a man who truly loves a woman would never intentionally harm her, no matter how great the betrayal." His gaze softened as he regarded the desperate woman before him. "I will send a runner to the Fowler residence immediately, Miss Jones."

"Oh, sir," she faltered, weeping in patent relief. "Thank you, and bless you a thousand times."

As the runner escorted Miss Jones from the office, Gabriella approached Troy and regarded him thoughtfully. He remained in his half-seated position on the desk, which brought their faces nearly level. His expression was brooding, deep brackets carved on either side of his lips. Although Gabriella had heard of the Chief Magistrate's well-known compassion for women and children, she was surprised by his willingness to interfere in a conflict between husband and wife. A wife was legally considered to be a man's property, and he could do as he pleased with her, short of actual murder. "That was very kind of you," she said.

The frown remained on Troy's face. "I'd like to make Fowler suffer in the same way his wife has."

Gabriella was in complete agreement, but she could not resist playing the devil's advocate. "Some would say that Mrs Fowler deserved such punishment for sleeping with another man," she pointed out.

"Regardless of her behaviour, her husband had no right to retaliate in such a manner."

"What would your response be if your wife betrayed you with someone else?"

It was apparent that the question surprised the magistrate. In one abrupt moment Gabriella had turned the conversation into something personal. Troy stared at her steadily, sudden tension causing his shoulder muscles to strain tightly against his coat. "I don't know," he admitted. "My wife was not the kind of woman who would have succumbed to that particular temptation. The issue was never a concern for me."

"What if you married again?" Gabriella asked, held prisoner by his intense blue gaze. "Wouldn't you worry about your wife's fidelity?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I would keep her so busy in my bed that she would neither have the time nor the inclination to seek another man's company."

The words caused an odd quiver to shoot through Gabriella's belly. It was an admission of nothing less than an all-consuming sexual appetite. It confirmed everything she had learnt about him so far. Troy Bolton was not a man to do anything by half measures. Before she could stop herself, Gabriella imagined what it might be like to lie tangled with him in intimacy, his mouth at her breasts, his hands moving gently over her body. Her face flamed with a mixture of embarrassment and awareness.

"Forgive me," he said softly. "I should not have spoken so frankly.

Gabriella flushed. "It was my fault," she managed to say. "I should not have asked such personal questions. I don't know why I did."

"Don't you?" His gaze snared hers again, and the hot flicker in his eyes made it difficult for her to breathe.

Gabriella had been trying to discover more a bout his character and the workings of his heart. It was all for the purpose of manipulation, of course. Unfortunately, she was finding it difficult to ignore a growing attraction to the man she planned to hurt. She wanted to remain cool and uninvolved when they finally shared a bed. However, there were so many seductive qualities about um: his intelligence, his compassion for vulnerable creatures, the raw need beneath his self-controlled façade.

Just as she felt a reluctant softening in her heart toward him, she thought of her dead brother, and her determination burned with new vigour. John must be avenged, or else his life would be robbed of any meaning at all. To let go of the past meant that she had failed John, and that was something that she could not do.

After a moment of calculation, she admitted carefully. "I suppose I am curious about you. You rarely talk about yourself, or of your past."

"There is little in my past that would interest you," he assured her. "I am an ordinary man from an equally ordinary family."

The statement should have reeked of false humility. After all, Troy Bolton was a man of remarkable accomplishments and abilities. Surely he was aware of his own achievements, his keen mind, his good looks, his sterling reputation. However, Gabriella realised that he did not consider himself superior to any other man. He demanded so much of himself that he could never live up to his own impossible standards.

"You are not ordinary," she half whispered. "You are fascinating."

There was no doubt that Troy was often approached by women who had a personal interest in him. As a handsome widower with deep pockets and considerable social and political influence, he was probably the most eligible man in London. Yet, Gabriella's statement had clearly caught him off guard. He gave her a baffled stare, seeming unable to form a reply.

Silence weighted the air. Finally Gabriella spoke, trying to sound brisk. "I will see about supper. Will you eat in the kitchen or here?"

Troy focused on his desk with inordinate attention. "Send a tray up here. I have more to do tonight."

"You should sleep," she said. "You work far too much."

He picked up a letter and broke the seal. "Good night, Miss Montez," he murmured, his gaze falling on the page.

Gabriella left the office and wandered through the hall with a frown. Why should she care if he refused to get the rest he needed? Let him work himself into an early grave, she thought. It hardly mattered to her if he ruined his health, the stubborn ox! But the irritation stayed with her as she recalled the weary smudges beneath his eyes. She reasoned that her concern stemmed from her desire for revenge. After all, one can hardly seduce a man when he was exhausted and half starved.

*Covent Garden is a district in London*

**Review, favourite and follow please! I would really like to know what you guys think^^ Do follow two of my instagram accounts life_sucks_move_on and howcast_ and follow me maybe? :3 Thanks for reading once again!**


End file.
